Impersonation
by CaptainTwigs
Summary: Something's up with Tony, and Jack Harkness is here to figure out what...or well he was...until he died on the scene and got caught coming back to life. But it's just another bump in the road as Jack tries to figure out where the shapeshifter he was hunted ended up. What's wrong with Tony?


(I do not own anything from NCIS or Torchwood. Please leave a comment with what you thought. Feedback is much appreciated! Debating on how many and if people even like it, I might make a part 2!)

Captain Jack Harkness had his gun drawn. He had been alone on this mission, hunting a shapeshifter. He had been following the trail of black blood on the pavement. He froze, hearing the soft footsteps. He quickly turned on his heels, pulling the trigger only seconds before he fell to the ground.

One very special Agent Dinozzo had heard the shot and was running over, his gun drawn, coat tail flying behind him. "Hey!" He yelled. "Federal agent! Stop!" He cursed loudly and paused, crouching beside the still body. He checked for a pulse and shook his head, cursing again before pursuing the gunman.

The man was sticking to the shadows, almost as dark as his blood. He glanced around unsure if anyone had heard what had just happened. He twitched, not a huge fan of his new form. He shook his head, growling softly as he messed with his hair. He had taken the agents gun and badge, tucking them into his pockets. He had handled the agent quite nicely as well. He smirked. Now two things were taken care of.

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs yelled at his senior agent, motioning the younger man over.

'Dinozzo' lifted his head out of the shadows and adjusted the bag on his shoulders. "Uh, yeah?" He asked, shrugging. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked over. He paused beside Gibbs and the body he had put there almost ten minutes before. "What's up?"

Gibbs studied his agent with a shake of his head. "Throw your stuff down, start taking pictures."

"Sure thing." Tony nodded, walking over to the wall and dropping his bag. Camera? What camera. Damn he should have chosen someone easier. He cursed under his breath and began digging through his backpack.

A deep gasp brought everyone's glances to the body.

Gibbs turned, eyes widening "What the f..."

Jack coughed, residual blood dribbling down his chin. He wiped it away, tensing as he felt something cold, and round, pressed against the back of his head. He shivered. "Uh..." He mumbled, feeling the tight grip on his shoulder, the hand pull him up to his feet.

"What are you?" A gruff voice cut off all his thoughts.

Jack shook his head. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't expected his murder to become quite the popular crime scene. His eyes traced the yellow tape. The hand turned him around, the gun now evenly split between his eyebrows.

"What are you?" The silver fox repeated, his cool gaze harsh, but flecked with curiosity.

Jack shook his head again, opening his mouth to speak.

"If you don't tell me, I will put another bullet through your skull." The man growled.

Jack sighed quietly. "I'm human. Promise." His eyes turned to glance at all of the eyes on him. One in particular sent a chill over his spine.

The man didn't look convinced. "Dinozzo!" He called, eyes never leaving Jack. "Clean him up and get him to Ducky. Get his clothes to Abby."

Tony looked up. He nodded. "Coming!" He walked over and pulled his handcuffs off his belt.

"You've got to be kidding me." Jack muttered. Handcuffs were only fun when he was with Ianto. He sighed quietly and winced as his hands were forced behind his back and tied with the steel chains. Tony put his hand on Jack's shoulder and led him into the building. Jack shivered under his touch. There was something unsettling about this man.

The cuffs were taken off, which allowed Jack to shower, and get the blood out of his hair. He sighed and stepped out of the shower, taking notice of the black, 'NCIS' jumpsuit that awaited him. It could be worse. They could have given him nothing...well...maybe he would have liked that option more. He pulled on the jumpsuit and pushed his way out of the bathroom. Tony was waiting for him just outside the door to slap the cuffs back on. Jack sighed quietly and was pushed towards the elevator. They do realize that he was the victim of this murder right? But this wasn't unusual...for people who've seen him come back.

Him and Tony stepped off the elevator, Tony going straight carrying the bag of all Jack's previous clothes, making Jack take a left. Jack looked above the glass doors. 'Autopsy' Oh Great... He shook his head and stepped through the doors.

An older man looked up as he entered.

"Ah, you must be the...uh. Oh my. The victim of the murder.." The doctor nodded. "I'm Doctor Mallard, but I wouldn't be upset if you called me Ducky."

Jack nodded. "Nice to meet you Ducky." This man seemed like the nicest he had met so far, and probably the nicest he _would_ meet.

Ducky nodded, offering Jack a small, understanding smile. He tapped his metal exam table, "Just jump on up here and I'll take a look at you."

Tony hadn't taken off the cuffs, so yup, Jack did actually have to jump up and onto the table. He hopped backwards, landing on his butt. He nodded and scooted back, "So what's up, Doc?"

Ducky nodded. "I...I heard you, oh how do I put this, you revived? On the scene?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah..." he mumbled. "You could call it that."

"You were shot, twice I might add. Two gunshot wounds to the chest, can I take a look?" Ducky wasn't the one to push. He kept a good distance from Jack, not necessarily terrified of what this man could do, no no, Ducky was definitely the opposite. Curiosity is what held him back.

Jack nodded. He was kind of...you know, bound with handcuffs so Ducky took the initiative and stepped forward. His gloved hands reaching out and unzipping the front of the jumpsuit. He pushed it off Jack's chest onto his shoulders, which Jack then shrugged off, the thin fabric falling off his shoulders.

Ducky's eyes widened in amazement. Nothing. There was no indication that this man had previously been shot. No scars, no breaks in the skin. Nothing.

Jack chuckled quietly, noting the look on the doctor's face. He shrugged.

Ducky wasn't able to find words to describe his awe. He didn't have to speak because as soon as Gibbs stepped through those doors...

"What do ya got Duck?"

Ducky managed to pull his gaze away from Jack's torso. "Ah, Jethro!"

Gibbs stopped by the table, his head tilting slightly as his cool gaze passed over Jack.

Ducky shook his head. "I've only just begun my examination, there won't be much to say." He muttered, turning back to face Jack.

Gibbs nodded. "Tell me what you know."

Ducky wasn't used to talking about his patient...while the patient was still breathing. It was a bit different for him.

He gestured at Jack's torso, glancing up at Jack, quickly asking if it was okay to touch. Jack shrugged, but nodded. Ducky lightly placed a gloved finger near Jack's heart. He hadn't gotten to the scene in time to see Jack's wounds or revival, he was going off the pictures McGee had sent down while Jack was cleaning up.

"First bullet was here." Ducky gently placed a gloved finger near the patients heart. "Stayed inside, most likely acting as a plug for all of the blood, which would explain why as little blood you found, for two gunshot wounds of course, would come from here." Ducky moved his finger to Jack's right shoulder. "Through and through. I would say he died from blood loss, but if he survived his insides would have been a mess."

Gibbs nodded, taking a sip of the coffee he always held in his hand. His eyes traced Jack up and down. "Bring him upstairs when your done, Duck." And with that, he was gone, heading up to the bullpen to review the camera footage they had.

Ducky nodded, watching Gibbs leave. He sighed quietly and pulled off his gloves. "Guess I should get you upstairs then?"

Jack sighed and shimmied off the table. He glanced down at his open jumpsuit. "You mind?" He asked, trying to shrug the thin fabric back over his shoulders. He failed.

"Ah, my apologies!" Ducky had disposed of his gloves and walked over, pulling the suit over his shoulders and zipping it up. "Right then, let's get you up there."

Ducky wasn't like Tony. He didn't force Jack to walk, he didn't keep his hand on Jack's shoulder, and Jack was so thankful. Somebody who cared.

They stepped out of Autopsy. Ducky turned towards the elevator and Jack followed. Ducky froze when he heard a gasp. "Oh dear..." he mumbled, turning around.

Jack raised an eyebrow and turned on his heels, taking a step back in surprise at the excited goth girl running towards him, lab coat flapping against her legs.

Abby was bouncing with excitement when she stopped in front of the two men.

Ducky offered her a small smile. "Abby this is..." he trailed off, glancing at Jack. "Well actually I never did get your name."

Jack sighed quietly. He had to remember, he was the victim here. Once they found out he was...human, they would start to help him, or that's what he told himself. "Jack." He nodded. "Nice to meet you Abby." He flashed her a smile, watching her eyes glitter with curiosity.

"You're the one who died?" Abby whispered, still in awe of the man before her.

Jack raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yup. That's me."

"So, can you like...never die?" Abby took a step forward.

Jack glanced down at his feet. That wasn't exactly the question he wanted to answer. He opened his mouth, about to speak before Ducky cut in and saved him.

"I'm sorry, Abby, but Jethro really wants Mr. Jack here upstairs. Maybe the two of you can talk after?"

Abby pouted, but as soon as Ducky promised (it wasn't exactly a promise but that's how she took it) that her and Jack could talk later, she immediately brightened up. She nodded in understanding. "Get him up there before the boss man gets angry." She shooed them towards the elevator. "We'll catch up later."

Ducky and Jack stepped out of the elevator. Jack glanced around at the orange walls, eyes falling on the skylight above him. What a weird place for a skylight. He shrugged and followed Ducky to the small clearing in between the four desks. The pair stepped into the bullpen. The only person here was once again the silver fox.

Gibbs looked up from his paperwork. He pulled off his glasses. Gibbs pushed himself up, and quietly thanked Ducky, watching as the man headed out of the bullpen and back towards the elevator. Gibbs turned back to Jack. "So Abby called, Jack was it? Your jacket is from World War Two?" This man was more of a mystery than Gibbs had first thought. First, Jack came back to life after being shot, twice. Second, he didn't wear a replica, he wore an exact coat from World War Two, but he didn't look a day over 35. Jack nodded. "Uh..yeah. My great grandfather's...friend, passed it down the family tree, and somehow I ended up with it...Is it possible to have it back?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Yeah... like he would buy that. "Sit." The bossman pointed at McGee's desk. Jack glanced at the desk. Clean and kept, definitely not like his desk back at Torchwood. He took a seat and sighed quietly, relief washing over him as Gibbs unlocked the handcuffs from his wrists.

Gibbs tossed the cuffs onto Tony's desk. He took a step back and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. "So..Jack.. got a last name?"

Jack was still rubbing the raw skin on his wrists. He glanced up from his red skin.

'Victim. I'm the victim, remember that. Maybe if I cooperate I'll actually be able to help them catch what made me that way. Sure...it'll be a hell of a lot explaining, could get me into some trouble, but who am I without a little of that?'

"Harkness. Jack Harkness."

Gibbs nodded. "Gibbs. There. Now that we know each other, why don't you tell me what you were doing in the Navy Yard, Jack?"

The team was back on the crime scene, looking for any shell casings or bullets, but so far, they'd had zero luck.

Tony's patience was wearing thin. He was here for something, someone, and this definitely wasn't the plan he had on mind. He shook his head and sighed. "There's nothing here!" He growled in frustration.

McGee glanced up from the corner he had been looking at. His eyebrow raised. "Woah. Okay calm down Tony. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?"

Tony shot him a glare. "You could say that." He mumbled. He sighed quietly, closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders.

'Calm yourself. This is too important to give up now'

Something in Tony's voice sent a shiver down Tim's spine. He had never heard Tony speak to him that way, with that Tony. Tony was usually a happy guy. Very little was able to keep the man down, and if he was down it wasn't for long.

McGee glanced over his shoulder at Ziva, who was intently searching the brick for a bullet hole. He could tell by the way she was standing, she too, was unnerved at Tony's sudden anger. Tim hadn't anymore dwell on Tony's aggression, because Ziva said she had found a bullet lodged in the wall. Tim walked over, sending a cautious glance in Tony's direction, unsure if the senior agent would snap at him again. Tim paused beside Ziva and helped her dig it out, which wasn't an easy task. The two stopped about halfway through, realizing that Tony had somehow...very silently, which was much unlike Tony, slip away. Tim shook his head and shrugged it off, continuing to pry the bullet free.

"Hey Ziva?"

"Hmm?" The young NCIS peonies was focused on breaking out the bullet.

"You think T-" He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before Ziva nodded.

"Yes...Maybe he's just feeling a bit under the storm?" She offered. It was obvious Tony wasn't himself. He'd been quiet all day...No movie quotes, no impressions, no dirty talk. Instead he snapped at McGee. He rarely smiled. The best possibility would be Tony just couldn't be feeling well...

"...it's weather Ziva."

Ziva looked up at the sky. "What weather, McGee?" He raised an eyebrow, sending a quizzical glance in her teammates direction.

"...never mind."

'Tony' had quietly slipped back into NCIS and was able to somehow avoid his, boss? That's who he figured the grey haired man was... and went to the bathroom on the first floor.

He could feel the blood almost begin to seep through his expensive suit. He sighed quietly and locked the bathroom door behind him. He shimmied off his pants and undid his jacket. That damn Harkness had scraped him with two bullets.

Black blood was beginning to seem through the bandages he had applied to his leg and arm. He growled a string of curses under his breath. He pulled off the soiled bandages and grabbed a load of paper towels. He pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash. He ran a hand through his hair as he began to tape the towels to his wounds. They had to heal up eventually.

By the time Tony had come out of the bathroom and made it up to the bullpen, McGee was already briefing Gibbs.

Tony walked in just to hear the last bit of info.

"Ziva and I were able to pull the bullet out of the wall, with minimal damage of course, no help from you either." McGee's voice quieted to a mumble as he shot Tony a look, which delivered him another glance that made the hair on the back of his neck raise.

"McGee?" Gibbs' gruff voice broke him from his trance.

"U...uh ye..yeah. Sorry boss." McGee nodded his apologies and clicked to the next slide. A picture of the bullet shone on the screen, something thick and black glittering on its surface. "We discovered some kind of black...maybe oil? We aren't sure yet. We sent it down to Abby for examination."

Jack, who had been hidden by the divider, (whom also wasn't supposed to be listening) shot up from his seat. "Black? What kind of bullet?"

Somehow Jack was able to convince Gibbs' to bring him to his belongings so Gibbs' could see the gun, and bullets he used so the team could compare.

Gibbs walked with Jack down to the evidence locker. Gibbs came out with a box that held Jack's gun. He placed the white box on the table and pushed open the lid. A small smile passed over Gibbs' lips. Maybe even a small chuckle could be heard. Gibbs looked at Jack and back at the Webley Mk. that was sitting in the box. "This is yours?" He asked as he pointed down at the revolver.

Jack nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Yup. Been with me for a while."

Gibbs shook his head. "Oh yeah...definitely a while." He laughed quietly and took the gun out of the box. He pulled out one of the bullets and marked it down on a note sheet before putting the gun back in the box and the box back in the evidence locker.

Back to Abby's lab.

Abby almost bounced out of her boots she was so excited. She was just so intrigued by Jack. She accepted the bullet from Gibbs, as well as a Caf-Pow.

Gibbs nodded. "Alright, you two have fun. Call me when you get the results Abs." He turned to leave.

Abby gasped, well...maybe more squealed. "Are you serious?" She caught Gibbs soft nod and jumped up and down, excitement and happiness coursing through her quicker than any amount of caffeine. She turned to Jack. "So how long have you had this...this super power?"

Jack chuckled quietly, amused at how excited she was. "It's quite the long story actually..."

Abby shook her head. "Oh trust me, I have time. I only don't when there's a ding." She motioned towards her computer as she spoke.

Jack nodded and opened his mouth to speak when a sudden 'Ding!' cut him off.

Abby groaned quietly, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. She just wanted to get one answer to one of her many questions. She turned on her heels and looked up at the screen. "Bullets are a perfect match!" She nodded, pulling out her phone to call Gibbs, who probably had just reached the top of the stairs. "Bullets a match!" She chimed once again into the phone. She ended the call and turned back to Jack, who had now taken a seat on one of her metal tables.

Jack chuckled quietly. "You ready for the story now?"

Abby nodded excitedly. Jack once again was about to speak when this time Abby cut him off. "Hang on!" She said and turned, running into the back room. She grabbed a couple things and came back out. Now this made Jack smile. She came back out with a pillow to sit on, a blanket, and a stuffed hippo with a spiked collar that matched her own.

Jack's eyes lit up with amusement. It almost reminded him of him and Grey when they were younger and Jack had offered to read his little brother a story.

Abby sat down on the floor and hugged Bert close, a small fart echoing from the hippo. "It's Bert." She offered, a bright smile on her face.

Jack laughed and began his tale.

Gibbs was upstairs with his team. Now that Abby had ID'd the bullet in the wall to Jack's gun, they still needed to find the bullet of Jack's shooter. One of the two had gone through and through, they just couldn't seem to find it.

McGee lifted his head from his computer. "Hey boss?"

"Yeah McGee." Gibbs muttered, not bothering to look at his agent.

"I've got the file you asked for. Already emailed it to you."

Gibbs nodded and pulled up the file from his email. The file of Jack Harkness. Gibbs started to read. The dates on the file matched his coat, and his weapon, but it all didn't add up. The file read that he was a Captain in the army, back during the Second World War. Okay...now that totally made no sense. Gibbs scrolled down the file, stopping at a picture of the man. Yeah sure, it looked like Jack. Gibbs reached over and grabbed his reading glasses. He slid them on his nose and blinked, taking another look at the picture. He shook his head. Those were two completely different people. Was Jack Harkness just an alias he had been using to toy with them! Dammit!

Gibbs pushed himself up, anger and frustration boiling within him. He took the stairs down to Abby's lab and pushed his way in. He grabbed onto Jack's arm, hard, ignoring his, or Abby's, sound of protest. Gibbs pulled Jack from the room and pushed him up the stairs a flight and into an interrogation room. Gibbs entered the room and smacked his palms against the table. "Sit." He growled, pointing at the seat across from him.

Jack had expected to come in here sooner or later, but he hadn't been ready for Gibbs and his anger. He did as he was told. Best not to be a smart ass now.

"Who are you?" Gibbs' voice was gruff, edgy. Yep...he was definitely pissed.

"Jack Harkness."

Gibbs chuckled...almost..an angry or impatient chuckle? He pushed himself away from the table and shook his head, turning to look at the one-way glass. He looked at Jack through the reflection of the mirror. Gibbs shook his head and turned back around, hands on his hips. "Who the hell are you?" He asked again, voice louder.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Jack Harkness." He said evenly, glancing up at Gibbs.

Gibbs shook his head. Okay. Now he was definitely pissed. He opened the Manila file he had on the desk and threw a picture across the table.

Jack looked down at the picture and his breath caught in his throat. The picture was of the actual Jack Harkness. The man whom Jack had taken his name from.

"That...is Jack Harkness." Gibbs tapped the edge of the picture, face mere inches from Jack's. Gibbs had lowered his voice in an effort to either calm himself down or try and persuade Jack. But which? Jack wasn't sure.

Jack nodded. Shit...he thought he had changed all the files...guess he forgot one of them. He swallowed. This would be a lot of explaining to do. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. He opened his mouth, picking his words very carefully. "This was Captain Jack Harkness. We were friends..."

Gibbs scoffed, shaking his head. "That's a little impossible considering the dates."

"Dammit just listen to me." Jack growled, shooting a glare up at Gibbs. Sure, Jack could cooperate, but bringing up painful memory's of his past pissed him off a bit.

A glint of something flashed in Gibbs' eye. Other than that, he wasn't phased.

Was it anger? Curiosity? Surprised? It was gone before Jack could decide what it was.

"It's going to be hard for you and your team to understand, so when you keep interrupting me, you're going to be even more confused and arrest me when I'm the damn victim." He tried to stop himself, but once he started, he couldn't stop. His fists clenched the bottom of the tables to keep from lashing out, knuckles paling.

"Just sit down and listen to me." He had been able to calm himself down a little bit, but not much.

That same glint sparkled in Gibbs' eyes again, but this time it sparkled for just a little while longer.

W...was it...amusement? Oh hell no.

Gibbs took a seat, intrigued. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "So talk. I'm ready to listen." He mumbled, expertly hiding a smirk.

Jack's eyes flashed. He took a deep breath, and began his tale.

"My name is Captain Jack Harkness, yes I met him once, only once...and it was a long time ago. He died in the war so that's where I got my name from." Gibbs looked as if he were about to speak, but Jack quickly cut him off with a glare. "How did I meet him? Considering that was World War Two? And I'm, what? 37 maybe pushing 40?" Jack sighed quietly. How the hell would he explain time travel. He wasn't even sure yet how to explain coming back to life. Gibbs wasn't like Abby. He wasn't amazed by the unnatural, but frustrated.

"I used to time travel...but I got stuck awhile back and there was nothing to do, but live out the years until I got to the present. You've seen it. I'm immortal. I can't die, I don't age. There's a story to it, but I'm still figuring it out too." He crossed his arms, staring Gibbs, right in his clear blue eyes.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, unsure if Jack would continue his story or not.

"Where are you from?" He asked quietly.

"The question you should be asking...is when." Jack replied, sarcasm dripping from his words like venom.

Gibbs brow furrowed.

"So then tell me."

Jack eyes were lit, flashing like a thunderstorm.

He rolled his eyes. "The fifty-first century."

Gibbs didn't believe him. Time travel? What had this guy been smoking? He sighed and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. He gave Jack one last glance before he pushed himself up and left, ignoring Jack's protests.

McGee was waiting for Gibbs outside interrogation, almost bouncing on his heels. He had obviously listened to Jack and it looked a bit like he was excited, almost like Abby, Tim just hid his excitement better than Abby ever would be able to. But there was a similarity between the two. Tim believed Jack. Gibbs could see it, clear on his agent's face.

"Why do you believe him, Tim?" Gibbs asked, tilting his head. The boss was at a loss. First, it was obvious Tony had been acting up, Gibbs had meant to pull him aside earlier, he just hadn't found the the chance. He had a connection with the man and personally wanted to check on him...but then this case of "Jack" and his identity crisis came into play.

Tim's answer was short and brief, "Rule 7 Boss.." he mumbled, keeping to himself what he wanted to say instead. 'That's the only thing holding you back from not trusting him.'

"Always be specific when you lie..." Gibbs mumbled and nodded.

After a few moments of silence, Gibbs gave in.

"Will you take him back up to the squad room? Chain him to my desk." When Tim nodded, Gibbs went off to search for Tony.

It was his own rule...how could he ignore it. His brain and his 'Famous Gibbs gut' were disagreeing and it almost made him nauseous. He shook his head to clear it. His brain said no, none of this could be true. But his gut told him Jack wasn't lying. His stomach turned. Time travel? What the hell. Since when did this case become a science fiction novel? His head ached. Gibbs rubbed his temple.

'Take a quick break in the bathroom and clear your head.' He walked towards the nearest bathroom, which was only just around the corner, and put his shoulder against the door to push it open. It wouldn't budge. What the hell? He took a step back, eyes grazing the wood. There wasn't an 'out of order' sign. There wasn't anything. He tried again. Still didn't budge. His brow furrowed and he knocked. It wasn't just a single toilet bathroom, which is why the locked door confused him. Well. Maybe now he was more pissed than confused. When no one answered he tried again with his shoulder, and just before he touched the door, he heard the lock 'click' and the door opened easily. Gibbs stepped into the bathroom, and there standing by the mirror, was Tony.

Gibbs looked his senior agent up and down, a flash of worry on his face gone in a second. "You okay?" He asked quietly, locking his eyes with Tony's. Tony nodded and shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

No smile. There was nothing. No emotion, just a blank face.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. "Tony?"

"Yeah, boss?" Tony slipped his hands into his pockets.

Gibbs shook his head and sighed quietly. "You know you can talk to me right? If there is anything wrong."

Tony nodded. "I know, but seriously there is nothing wrong." He shrugged and glanced at his watch. "We should get back to the case right?" He offered and scooted past Gibbs.

Tony stepped out of the bathroom and started heading towards the elevator. Shit that was close. He glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. No. Maybe this was a good thing? Tony's brow furrowed in thought. He could use this. He could work with this. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, bringing him up to the squad room.

Something was definitely wrong with Tony. Gibbs sighed and leaned against the wall. Just another thing to add to his plate. For once he actually wanted to go home. He wanted to take a second and just think. Be in his basement with his boat and bourbon. This case would never end.

McGee had done just as Gibbs asked. Jack was sitting on the floor of the bullpen, handcuffed to one of the legs of Gibbs desk. Tim had sat at his desk, keeping and eye on Jack, when Tony showed up. Both Jack and Tim hadn't heard him come in. The only sound that brought the two out of their heads was Tony's chair.

"Hey...Tony. About earlier..." McGee began, but Tony just shook his head.

"It's fine." He mumbled, not looking up from his computer.

Tim watched as Tony's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Woah, Tony, did you take typing classes over the weekend or something? That's so much better than last week." He chuckled quietly, amazed at how quickly Tony's two fingered typing could advance to...well...normal typing.

Tony blinked. What? How the hell did this idiot type if it wasn't how everyone else in the world typed. He shrugged. "Uh...yeah. They were pretty cheap so I just figured..."

Ziva came off the elevator holding an evidence bag. "Found the bullet that hit Jack." She held up the bag. "Taking it to Abby now."

Tim nodded his thanks, watching her go. Gibbs stepped into the bullpen, glancing down at Jack, whom decided to keep his mouth shut and his head down. Gibbs shook his head and was about to take a seat when his cellphone rang. He cursed under his breath and read the caller ID. 'Abby' he pushed open his flip phone and held it to his ear.

"Can you come down to the lab?" Her voice wasn't as cheery as it usually was. Probably because Gibbs took away her story teller a few hours earlier.

"Yeah, Abs. I'm on my way." And with that, he turned and left, heading for the lab.

"What do ya got Abs?" He asked as he stepped into the lab, glancing at his forensic scientist. She definitely did not look happy. Her arms were crossed and she was pouting a bit. Great...

Abby shook her head. "Not until you apologize."

Gibbs sighed. "Abs.."

"Apologize!"

Gibbs looked down at his shoes. He could never stay mad at her. "I'm sorry. As soon as I figure out what's going on, he'll be back down here to tell you more stories." He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.

Abby brightened. She could never stay mad at Gibbs. She nodded. "So this is the bullet Ziva just brought to me." She held up the small bullet. "I will get to that later, but for now." She put a picture up on her screen. "This is the bullet that belonged to Jack's gun, and this..." she pulled up the picture of the bullet that had been fired, covered in a black liquid. "Is the bullet Jack fired. See all this black stuff, well at first I wasn't sure what it was. McGee suggested oil, but that didn't make any sense. It's a bullet. So the thing would be..."

"Blood..." Gibbs breathed. "Black blood?"

Abby nodded and put a few microscopic pictures on her monitor. "The red one, is human blood, this black one, is the liquid found on Jack's bullet."

Gibbs' eyes widened. He looked back at the picture of the bullet with the blood. He's seen this somewhere before...and then it clicked.

"Thanks Abs!" Gibbs had turned on his heels and was almost running out of the lab. He pushed the button to call the elevator, but only waiting two seconds before turning to run up the stairs. The man may be old, but it didn't mean he wasn't quick.

He passed the interrogation rooms and pushed open the bathroom door. He looked in the trash can. Yup. There they were. Bandages. Bandages covered with the black blood. He pulled a glove from his pocket and grabbed onto the bandages. There would be no sign of prints, but it didn't mean he couldn't get it to Abby.

Gibbs had handed off the bandages to Abby and headed back upstairs. Maybe by now McGee had gotten the footage from the cameras out front. As if McGee had read his mind, he had.

Tim put the video feed on the screen. Video from this morning, about 5 minutes before the murder...well..attempted murder? McGee fast forwarded the feed about three minutes until someone finally entered the view. It was a young kid, probably around the age of ten. They hadn't heard the full story, but they were about to see it unfold.

The kid looked up, but he didn't look afraid. Instead a dark, almost devilish grin spread across the child's face as he reached into the belt of his pants and pulled out a gun. The kid ran out of view, opposite the way he had come.

Now Jack stepped into view, his revolver in hand. His eyes scanned the area. He turned, firing a few rounds before he fell to the ground.

The kid pocketed his gun and took a step towards Jack, freezing as he heard someone yell.

"Hey!" Tony's voice rang over the tape.

The kid bolted. Spots of black following behind him. "Federal Agent! Stop!" Tony yelled. The kid kept going. "Dammit!" He cursed and crouched beside's Jack's limp body. "Shit." He mumbled and continued in pursuit of the kid, gun in hand.

Gibbs glanced over at Tony, who hadn't even looked up from his report to watch the video. Concern coursed through Gibbs' veins. When Tony was silent...it meant something was really, really wrong. He turned his attention back to the video when Tony once again appeared on screen. He was different than when he first entered the view. That Tony was relaxed, comfortable. This Tony was tense, sticking to the shadows, almost as if he didn't want to be seen.

Jack had been watching intently and turned his attention to look at Tony, studying him. His eyes stopped on a small blob of black, seeping through the brown fabric of Tony's suit. His eyes widened. He twisted in his handcuffs.

Once the video ended, it showed the current live feed of the building side.

Gibbs turned around, placing his foot on Jack's leg, keeping him from squirming. "Why were you chasing that kid?" He growled, clearly confused.

Great. Another thing Jack didn't know how to explain. He glanced over at Tony, watching as the agent got up and left. No! Dammit there went his chance! His hard gaze turned back to Gibbs. "I hunt aliens. I time travel, I'm immortal, and my job is hunting aliens. There's an agency in Cardiff called Torchwood, look it up old man! You'll probably find us with your special database! We hunt aliens and that kid was an alien, a shapeshifter! And I'm pretty sure I know where he went!" Jack growled. He tried to push against Gibbs' foot, but being cuffed to the leg of a desk didn't really help his strength. Gibbs shifted more weight onto his foot, and scooting his foot up to Jack's stomach.

"Ziva, look up Torchwood, you too McGee, brief me when I get back, and keep him quiet. If he talks. Shoot him." Gibbs ordered, with a shrug. Not like he could die anyway. He glanced down at the man he was practically walking on. Aliens now? It just never ended with this guy.

Gibbs had seen Tony leave and he decided to follow him. He walked out of the bullpen and found Tony standing just behind the stairs, almost as if he had been waiting for him. "Tony?"

Tony looked up as his boss said his name.

"You wanna show me how it happened this morning?" It wasn't a question, but an order, but the way he said it wasn't forceful in anyway. He had seen the way Tony had acted when he had come back into frame. It was maybe a bit defeated, but it almost looked like a totally different person.

Tony and Gibbs walked past the bullpen and towards the elevator.

Jack squirmed where he was, trying to break free from his chains. "Wait." He growled. Gibbs ignored him and continued walking.

Ziva pulled her gun from its holster and clicked off the safety. Jack immediately quieted, hanging his head in defeat. Dammit! Damn all!

Gibbs and Tony walked out into the Navy Yard. Gibbs crossed his arms, the soft breeze rustling his hair. "So? What happened Dinozzo?"

Tony nodded. "I got out of my car, about to head in when I saw." He pointed to where Jack had been shot. "And heard gun fire. I ran after the kid, but he was easily out of sight." Tony and Gibbs walked across the pavement, them now appearing on the screen up in the squad room. Jack glanced up. The sound had been turned down, so he couldn't really make out what they were saying.

Gibbs looked up from the crime scene, a...sound... was that chains? Where were there chains around here? His eyes narrowed as he thought, the blue orbs scanning the terrain. Gibbs' eyes stopped on something out of frame. It was crates.

Old, rotting crates that had probably been shoved back here awhile ago. He shrugged, turning back to look at Tony, when he heard the dragging of metal again. His head turned back to the crates. What the hell? He had to be hearing things. He shook his head and turned back to Tony, unable to react as the bullet ripped through his abdomen and he fell to the ground, watching through glossy eyes as Tony's mouth twisted up in a dark, sinister grin.

Jack bit his lip, as soon as he saw Tony and Gibbs walk off together. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the gun. But he couldn't do anything. He was chained here to the desk. He cursed under his breath, flinched as he heard the gun shot echo, both on the monitor and outside.

McGee's head shot up, his eyes wide. He turned to look at Jack and followed his eyes to the monitor. The color drained from the probie's face as he saw the picture in front of him. He was frozen. Gibbs was down, blood pooling around him, and above him...stood Tony, the man staring down at Gibbs, a devilish smiling bright on his lips.

"Snap out of it!" Jack yelled, once again pulling on his chains, wincing as the metal ripped into his flesh. "Let me out of here! Let me help!" He struggled again.

McGee looked up from the screen and nodded. He quickly pulled the key from Gibbs drawer and unlocked Jack before sprinting down the stairs after Ziva.

Jack nodded his thanks. Dammit, he needed a gun. He shook his head. He didn't have time. He pulled open one of Tony's desk drawers. Jackpot. He grabbed the gun and ran after the other two.

There were already agents at the scene. McGee rushed over to Gibbs, Jack hot on his tail.

"Boss?" Tim kneeled beside Gibbs. The man was pale, but breathing. An ambulance had already been called and was only about five minutes out.

"M' fine...McGee." Gibbs mumbled, glancing up at his agent, a pained expression on his face. Jack took some gauze out of the first aid kit he was given, and applied pressure to Gibbs' wound, earning a groan from the man.

"Been worse..." He sighed quietly, shutting his eyes. He relaxed his breathing and reached up, grabbing a hold of Jack's thin jumpsuit. He pulled Jack close and stared him straight in the eyes. "Find me my damn agent." He growled quietly.

Jack couldn't help but smile a bit. Did it just take getting shot for Gibbs to trust him? Or had he finally realized that this Tony wasn't his Tony? The Captain nodded. "Anything for you boss." He patted Gibbs shoulder. "I'll meet you at hospital. You better not die on me!" He joked quietly, earning himself a small, painful smile from Gibbs. Jack pushed himself up, placing a comforting hand in McGee's shoulder. He nodded, "Make sure he gets there okay." He told McGee, glancing up as the ambulance showed up. Jack pulled out the gun he had found in Tony's desk, and pursued down the alley in the direction Gibbs had told him. 'Rotten crates' Gibbs' voice played over in his head as he began to look for what the older man was talking about.

Tony had started to run. He needed to run and find a different form, become someone else. But first...he needed to get rid someone else. He easily pushed aside the rotting crates, revealing a medium sized crack in the brick wall. He easily slipped through, looking around the shadows. He turned, eyes landing on the defeated form in the corner.

The real Tony Dinozzo was beaten and broken, chained to the wall, dried blood stuck to his nose, splattered on his clothes. His eyes were closed. The only sign of life was the quiet sound of his labored breath. He slowly raised his head, pain clear on his face. He had lost track of time as he sat down here. The last thing he remembered was following that kid...but somehow that kid was much stronger than Tony... Tony had chased the kid until he lost him. And that was when he was attacked. Someone came at him from behind, something that felt like the handle of a gun had collided with his skull. And that's the last thing he remembered before he woke up in this dark, nasty hole. It smelled of shit and death and he just wanted out. He had figured Gibbs would have come save him by now...but he guessed wrong.

Tony looked up at the dark figure through tired eyes. "...who are you." The agent whispered, voice raspy from disuse.

The figure laughed and held up his gun. He stepped into the small strip of light and tilted his head. "One very special agent Anthony Dinozzo." His white grin flashed in the light.

Tony blinked. No this couldn't be right? He was Tony Dinozzo. He shook his head, groaning quietly as he leaned forward, trying to get a better look.

The shifter laughed, a dark, maniacal laugh that caused Tony to shudder. The shifter looked at his gun, and then at Tony. "Thanks for letting me use your form. Sorry about this." He sneered, pointing his weapon down, finger hovering over the trigger.

"Apologizes don't cure all the hell you caused." Jack growled, stepping into the small hole. His gun was raised and his eyes were flickering like a grey fire.

The shifter turned, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah Jack! How nice of you to show up. Maybe this time you can watch his execution before you die again too."

Jack shook his head. "No way in hell."

The shifter shrugged. "Well there's no way you have the advantage. We seem to be evenly matched."

"Oh are we?" Jack's lip turned into a smirk.

The shifter was about to respond but was cut off as three bullets entered his chest. He collapsed to the ground, struggling to breath.

Ziva's gun was still raised as she walked out from her hiding place. She had made good use of her time by crouching behind the crates, out of view.

Jack took a step forward, clicking the safety back on his gun and pocketing the weapon. He crouched beside the shifter's still form, putting his fingers against its neck to feel for a pulse. He shook his head, watching the black blood bubble out of the wounds. He grimaced and shook his head.

Ziva was already over to Tony, working on unchaining him. "You okay?" She asked quietly, concern visible on her face.

Tony swallowed, his throat so dry it sent him into a small coughing fit. As soon as he got his breathing under control, he nodded. "I'll be fine." He mumbled. He looked up as Jack approached. "...who are you?" He asked quietly. Jack shook his head. "I'll explain later." He held up Tony's badge and credentials. "Welcome back Mr. Dinozzo." He offered Tony a smile.

As soon as Tony had seen someone enter the hole he had assumed it was Gibbs. But it wasn't. It was some other man, dressed in an old NCIS jumpsuit. Where was his boss? Worry passed over Tony. "Gibbs?" He breathed. Even talking, one of Tony's favorite things, pained the man.

Jack nodded. "He's fine...he's at the hospital. You two can talk as soon as we get you there too." He offered quietly. "You'll both be fine." He promised as he and Ziva slowly brought Tony to his feet. "Let's get you fixed up."

Ziva and Jack took Tony to the hospital. He was cleaned up and diagnosed with a fractured rib and a mild concussion. Could have been worse. Ziva was just happy Tony was alive. She never left his side in the room and Tony honestly didn't mind. He had calmed down and had Ziva begin to explain to him what the hell actually happened when McGee showed up, announcing that Gibbs was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. Tony had of course been worried as hell when he heard the news of himself? No...that wasn't him. Fake Tony. When fake Tony had shot his boss. It also pissed him off. He shivered. What if the fake had killed Gibbs. It would almost be as if Tony had personally killed him. The hair on his neck stood on end. He would never escape that guilt.

Gibbs was awake, and of course, complaining. Jack sat in there with him, constantly telling him that Tony was fine, and that he would be released within a couple of hours. And he was right.

Tony pushed his way into his bosses room and watched as Gibbs' eyes lit up. A small smile turned up on Tony's lips. "Heya boss." His voice still wasn't quite up to its usual level of 'Tonyness.'

Gibbs stopped complaining once Tony showed up. He was just glad to see that his agent was okay. He was also almost content when he heard the fake was dead and gone for good, but he would have rather killed the bastard himself. "I'm glad you're back Tony." Gibbs admitted. Tony chuckled weakly. "Missed you too boss." He carefully wrapped his boss in a hug. "Glad you're okay."

Jack sat out in the waiting room. Mine as well give the team their privacy. He sighed quietly as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He smiled at the name on the screen. He answered the call and put his phone to his ear. "Hey Yan." He pushed himself up.

"Finally you picked up! Jack where the hell are you? You've gone off the grid and you haven't answered your phone for almost two days!"

Jack knew just by the first words that Ianto was trying to sound pissed, but he was more worried than anything.

Jack chuckled quietly. "Bit of a long story, Yan."

Ianto sighed. "So tell me."

Jack shook his head. "A bit too long for the phone."

Jack glanced up as he felt a light hand touch his shoulder. He figured it would be McGee or Ziva, maybe even Tony, so he shook it off and continued on the phone. "Ianto? Ianto?" The line was dead.

"Yes?" A welsh voice said from behind him.

Jack gasped in surprise his phone almost dropping from his hands. He quickly turned on his heels and wrapped his arms around his lovers neck. "Ianto!" Jack grinned, placing a heavy kiss on the welshman's lips. "I thought you said you lost my signal?"

Ianto chuckled quietly, thankful to be back in his lover's hold. He shook his head. "Maybe for an hour."

Jack smiled, placing another kiss on his lover's lips.

Ianto slowly pulled away.

"So...is this just your new fashion or.." he asked, directing his gaze towards the old jumpsuit Jack still had on.

Jack looked down and chuckled quietly. "Right...long story time."


End file.
